


Follow My Shadow

by FoxCollector



Series: Les Jeux des Enfants [3]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Connected Scenes, Gen, author gets experimental with scene transitions, author loves the clown movies, author thinks too much about clown movies, background canon married couples, weird framing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:47:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24718495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxCollector/pseuds/FoxCollector
Summary: Just a little drabble about the Losers as adults before they go back to Derry.
Series: Les Jeux des Enfants [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1823200
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	Follow My Shadow

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not really sure where this came from, but here it is. I think it could be taken as part of my other It stories, or read as a stand alone. I just had a lot of thoughts about the Losers and I decided to get experimental with the transitions. My brother thought it was a bit pretentious, but he still liked it, so that's at least one person!

“I mean, how much power does the electric company have?” Richie says into the mic. “Anybody remember Godzilla? A plane couldn’t stop him. The atom bomb couldn’t stop him.”

For whatever reason, this joke always kills. He goes through the bit, hitting all the right inflections at all the right times. Routine. No feeling.

"But you get him in front of one high power line -" He pushes his glasses up on top of his head and mimes Godzilla walking into a powerline.

He looks out at the crowd, and can barely see them through the glare of the spotlights. God. How is it that he can literally be surrounded by a hundred people and feel so goddamn lonely? How hard is it to make a connection?

“Oh – and speaking of power lines, so I’m out with my girlfriend at Best Buy…” It’s a lie, he doesn’t have a girlfriend right now, but he did when he wrote the joke, at least.

The camera pans wide across the stage.

“And this guy, he goes, ‘how long do you need the extension cord to be?’ And I said ‘about six feet deep,’” Richie says.

The TV is turned up so loud Eddie can hear it in the shower, which means Myra wants him to know what’s on right before she changes the channel. She _knows_ he likes to watch Richie Tozier. It’s not that he’s all that funny, he really isn’t, but for reasons Eddie doesn’t dare contemplate, Tozier is his favourite comedian. Myra _knows_ that. Eddie would jump at the chance to watch a bit before they go to bed. He likes to find familiarity when he’s a thousand miles away from home. But instead he knows she’ll turn it off. She’s probably going to tell him that that sort of thing isn’t good to watch before going to sleep. There’s a blip of silence when the TV flips to the next channel.

Eddie sighs. The hotel has good water pressure at least. He thinks he’ll stay in here a little longer than necessary.

It’s nice, and he’s warm.

He wonders when their connection faded. If they ever really had one. He’s not good at this, he thinks.

His feet splash, and when he looks down he sees that the water isn’t draining. Gross. That could be backed all the way up from the sewers. Unbidden, he thinks about a hand in a drain pipe.

The water swirls round and round.

Stan tests the temperature again, turning up the heat.

“I don’t know, Stanley,” Patricia says. “Maybe we’re a little too old for this kind of thing.”

“Come here,” he says, and tugs his wife closer. “How can we be too old for a relaxing bath? We’re not dead yet.”

She laughs. “Not yet. But wine and chocolate in the bathtub? Seems positively decadent.”

Stan shuts off the water. “That’s the idea.”

He loves the way she smiles at him, and he knows he’s the luckiest man alive to have what he has with her. He wouldn’t trade their connection for the world.

“Okay, well, here goes nothing.” Patty tugs her _Rogan-Marsh_ nightgown up over her head and lays it down on top of the pile of clothes.

The thin dress slides off and lands on the floor.

Beverly picks it back up, shoving it into her bag. It’s only supposed to be a night or two, but she’s already packed enough for almost a week.

Sometimes she thinks that she does stuff like this – packs too much, plans too carefully – because she’s looking for a way out.

She thinks sometimes that there’s a broken connection between her and Tom. He’s so good to her until he isn’t, and then he makes her forget all about that with lavish gifts. Spoiling her until she feels she can’t possibly deserve him. Until it happens again.

She spots her book on the nightstand. The one Tom doesn’t want her to read, because it’s too scary for her. She likes a good horror story though, and maybe that’s the problem.

She grabs William Denbrough’s _The Glowing_ from the nightstand and traces the lettering with her fingertips. She tosses it into her suitcase.

The book lands with a soft thump.

Bill opens the book, and then looks up. “ _The Glowing_ , that’s… that’s one of my early ones. I did have fun with it.” He pauses. “Who am I making it out to?”

“Richard,” the man says. He’s nervous and a little sweaty. “It’s my favourite. I think it’s the only one you really manage to nail the ending on. I – I mean. Um.”

Bill laughs. “No worries. I’ve heard my endings are… divisive.” He clears his throat and smiles at the man. “I knew a Richard. He went by ‘Richie’ though.”

He almost writes _To Richie_ in the book before correcting himself.

“Cool,” Richard says. He wipes his palms on his jeans. “No one calls me that.”

Bill writes out, _To Richard, may all your endings be as good as the beginnings. Love, Bill Denbrough._

Cheesy as hell, but the man looks thrilled and Bill knows he’s made a connection. Richard hugs the book to his chest.

“Thanks,” he says, and scuttles out of the way of the next person.

The next man drops a massive pile of books onto the table.

Mike eyes the pile. Seven books on architecture and design, one Denbrough book and two magazines.

“Weekend plans?” He asks.

The man shrugs. “Just always wanted to get into architecture.”

Mike starts scanning the books, barely noting their titles beyond _Build_ and _Architect_. He scans out Bill’s _The Grin_ , and then a _Home and Design_ magazine, and finally, an issue of _TIME_ with Ben Hanscom on the cover.

Mike pauses. “You know this guy grew up here?” He points at Ben.

“No way, seriously?” the man perks up. “Well he sure made it big.”

“Yeah he did.” Mike laughs. “I guess there’s hope for the rest of us.”

He likes seeing that his friends are okay out there. Sometimes he feels a little jealous. He wishes he could leave it all behind, but someone has to man the lighthouse, has to keep the connection open.

He pushes the magazine back across the table.

It’s a good picture of Ben, but the flash washes him out a bit.

Ben sighs. “Maybe one more?”

He hates having his picture taken, but they want a profile for the grand opening of the hotel.

He sits up straight again, and tries to smile in a way that says _I’m an Architect and I hope you connect with this building like I did_. It’s dumb. He feels dumb.

“One more time,” the photographer says, and that’s how Ben knows he really messed up that last one.

Somewhere to the left, one of the techs has the TV going.

Ben can hear some comedian in the background. “Like I wanted him to think that the cord wasn’t for me, but instead I definitely made it sound like I was going to murder my girlfriend. Which, you know, is slightly illegal.”

He doesn’t know why, but it makes him smile.

“Finally!” The photographer says.


End file.
